The Miracle at the Living Well
by Lady Stormbraver
Summary: His story is far from finished. Because if there's one thing they've learned through this adventure, it's that the Maker restores life and makes all things new. / Post-TWatWK, major spoilers.
**A/N: Hello lovely people! If you're currently reading this, then that means you've finished the Wingfeather Saga- and if you haven't, then backtrack now because this is nothing but spoilers for a crazy-huge plot twist in _The Warden and the Wolf King_ that will bring you to tears. Ahem.**

 **Still here? Good. Then let's take a moment to talk about these books: _were they not the most epic things ever_? I read all four in a few days; they were so brilliant that I just couldn't stop reading them, y'know? And then the last half of _TWatWK_... I had to stop reading and just cry for a few minutes, which I rarely ever do with books. ( _The Book Thief_ was a notable exception.) It was so sad- yet beautiful and perfect all the same, and I loved Peterson even more for ending it that way. Such a perfect analogy for our own salvation!**

 **But, perfect as it was- _I wanted more_. I didn't want to leave my dear Wingfeathers behind, especially on such a monumental cliffhanger. So I wrote this little drabble. It's nothing much, and honestly I was debating on whether I should post it or not, but then Andrew Peterson announced today that they're beginning a kickstarter for this _huge_ Wingfeather Saga animated film series (you can read about it on his Instagram page), and the news was so exciting that I figured now would be a perfect time to share this with our small-yet-epic fandom!**

 **So here you go... If I owned the Wingfeather Saga, there would already be a live-action film of it and our fandom would be _huge_ because these books really deserve to be loved by a ton of people. But since I don't... :)**

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 **/ the miracle at the living well / tell the world I'm coming home /**

The first thing he noticed were the voices— strangely familiar, yet distant all the same— calling his name.

What _was_ his name? Oh yes.

Janner Wingfeather.

The Throne Warden.

The Throne Warden of Anneria.

The Throne Warden who had breathed his last to do his job: protect his brother.

…Or so he'd thought.

"Janner? Janner, it's me, Kal."

"Try again. Keep calling him."

"You know your name, right? I'll tell you. You're Janner Wingfeather, Throne Warden of Anneria… you're my brother."

"Janner, please…"

"Janner! Wake up!"

"Kalmar, I don't think it's working…"

"It _will_ work. It _is_ working. Janner, come on! I'm not giving up on you!"

"Janner, son, come back to us, _please_ …"

Mere seconds— or perhaps eternities, it was hard to tell— after the voices came the light. It was blinding, yet not unpleasant— soft and warm, like sunbeams. Janner had the sense that he was flying— soaring up, up, up as the voices continued to draw him closer to the light, closer to home…

His eyes flew open, and before he could move or blink or even form a coherent thought there was a general uproar all around him.

It was hard to say who got to him first, but before he knew it he was engulfed on all sides in overjoyed hugs from Kalmar, Leeli, and Nia. In the background Janner could barely make out the smiling, light-filled faces of Oskar, Artham, and… Sara Cobbler?

He grinned weakly at them all (especially Sara), but had no time to process the situation because it was then that he noticed that his whole family was crying.

And it wasn't just tear-filled eyes, either… no, it was a waterfall, a sobbing that was born of deep grief turned to great joy.

For a long moment, there were no words, for what could possibly be said at a time like this?

Janner figured he'd be the first to speak: "So, um, I guess this means I'm still alive, right?"

Kalmar drew back from the family embrace with a suspicious sniffle and grinned at him out of a decidedly non-wolfish face. "Thank the Maker you are! Mama probably would've killed me if this didn't work."

Nia lifted her head to send her younger son a sharp look. "That isn't funny right now. You know I couldn't do that— but it _would_ have broken my heart even more."

Janner squirmed uncomfortably as his mother looked at him with weary-yet-sparkling eyes, imagining the depth of her grief in losing her firstborn. "Mama, I'm sorry I hurt you. And I'm sorry I didn't say goodbye."

Nia leaned back, keeping her hands on her son's shoulders, and gazed into his eyes. "Please, Janner, don't ever do anything like that again."

Janner sighed and looked back at her with a heavy sadness. "You know I can't promise that, Mama." After a pause, he glanced at Kalmar with a hint of a smile. "But now that everyone's healed, hopefully there won't be a need for me to do that again." Kalmar smiled back, but Janner noticed a hint of something like guilt in his blue eyes. They would need to talk later.

Leeli buried her golden head in his shoulder and hugged him tighter, saying, "That was so amazing of you to do."

But Janner shook his head. "That's the thing. It wasn't really me— more like the Maker was calling me to do it. It's hard to explain. But it was all Him."

Artham stepped forward with a knowing smile. "I understand you perfectly. Where we're weak on our own, the Maker gives us strength. And when you sacrificed yourself for your brother and everyone else, you were simply following the Maker's calling, the calling of a Throne Warden. Doing what you were created to do."

Janner nodded, relieved that at least someone was able to put it into words.

"How do you feel?" Kalmar asked, curiosity flashing in his eyes. "We're at the Living Well right now. The water healed you. I mean, the Maker did, but the water helped."

Janner chuckled a bit and moved to sit up. "Better than ever! I feel like I could eat a whole sailor's pie right now. And then run across Anneria. Or even do something crazy like ride a dragon."

Everyone else burst into laughter, and Leeli's eyes sparkled when she said, "I'm sure I could convince Hulwen to give you a ride back to the castle. She and I talk about you all the time, you know, and she was so excited that we were bringing you here! Oh, let's go home. It'll be so nice now that we're all together again."

Janner smiled, his shoulders relaxing as peace washed over him. "Home? That sounds pretty good."

"But we might as well do something crazy now, while you're still in the mood for it." Kalmar grinned his old reckless grin, and for the first time Janner grinned right back— but Nia was having none of it.

"No." She stood, brushed off her skirt, and held out her hands to help Janner struggle to his feet. "Absolutely not! You've only been awake for five minutes, son. No craziness today, Queen's orders."

Kalmar laughed, sending his mother an impish grin. "I'm the king, remember?"

Nia's eyes narrowed, but there was an underlying sparkle of amusement in her clear blue eyes. "Fine. Mother's orders, then."

All three of the adults laughed as Artham commented wryly, "Nia wins this one, boys."

The light, joyful chatter continued as the little procession made its way out of the Living Well and through the forest to where Hulwen and two other dragons awaited them in a grassy clearing. Everyone formed a sort of subconscious circle around Janner as they walked— as if protecting him, making sure he wasn't going to vanish into thin air.

Not that he felt he needed any sort of protection; like he said, he felt better than ever before. Water from the Living Well now flowed through his veins, after all.

Leeli stepped up beside him and slipped one tiny hand into Janner's, the other one clutching her cane as usual. When he glanced at her she was smiling up at him. "You haven't seen all the beauty that's come from your sacrifice yet. Everyone is their true self again— we're rebuilding the castle bit by bit— and we're already talking about all of us having weekly gatherings to praise the Maker!"

Janner couldn't help but laugh a bit. "All of this in one day? Wow. You sure miss a lot being dead."

Nia threw him a sharp look, and he grimaced sheepishly. "Sorry, Mama."

"It's actually been three days," Kalmar murmured, the guilt flashing through his eyes again. "Took us awhile to get here." Janner merely nodded, taking in the information.

Leeli wasted no time in climbing up to her seat of honor atop the graceful Hulwen, who sent Janner a warm glance and friendly nod. Sara Cobbler, after looking almost shyly at Janner for a brief moment, followed her, patting Hulwen's back fondly and asking her if anything interesting had happened while they were at the Well.

Oskar Reteep was struggling to mount his own dragon; Artham helped him up, his mouth twitching as if he wanted to laugh but was politely refraining, before turning to gallantly offer a hand to his sister-in-law Nia, who accepted it with a soft smile and silent thank-you.

That left the final dragon for the two brothers, the Throne Warden and the King. The boys shared a grin, though Janner couldn't help but wonder if this arrangement had been planned from the start.

Not that he minded one bit.

Kalmar went to climb up, but hesitated, giving Janner an unreadable glance. "You want me to lead, or…?"

It said a lot about how much Janner had grown when he simply grinned and said, "Well, King Kalmar, go ahead. I'll sit behind you this time."

Kal's eyes brightened as he scrambled to mount his dragon, patting it on the back as he did so. Janner followed suit, and grinned when the dragon let out a snort, air escaping his nostrils. Kalmar sighed, as if he was dealing with a very heavy burden, and informed his brother that "he's got an attitude".

The old Janner would've responded with a thoughtless, _So he's just like you, then?_

The new Janner thought it but didn't say it; he knew it would hurt his brother. Kal had changed greatly— they both had— and it wouldn't do anyone any good to harp on the past. (No matter how much of an attitude a certain Tink Igiby had had once upon a time.)

The dragon, who Janner found out was called Aahan, soared into the sky; Janner couldn't help but marvel at his little brother, the one who had been terrified of heights not so long ago, directing a dragon who raced through the skies at high speeds. _He really is a king now,_ Janner realized, and smiled without a trace of jealousy. _No, I don't envy your role, Kal. I'm content with being your protector while you go on to lead. It's been my role all along, after all._

Still in his I-can-do-anything mood, Janner let out a whoop of joy, closing his eyes and enjoying every second of the flight.

In front of him, Kalmar laughed (his laugh had lost its familiar wolf-growl, which was strange yet good), shouting back, "I hope this side of you lasts; we could get into some really interesting adventures if you're always fun like this!"

"Thanks, but I think I'll leave the recklessness to you; you know you'll drag me on those adventures anyway," Janner retorted, but he was laughing too.

Yes, this brotherly comradeship, free from arguments and resentment and looming life-threatening dangers (for now, at least)— it was nice. Really nice. Janner found himself looking forward to the aforementioned adventures. _Life's never dull when you're a Wingfeather. And I'm alright with that now._

"We're here," Kalmar exclaimed suddenly, his whole face lit with excitement, and Janner looked over his head to see the wide expanse of the Shining Isle before them— broken, yes, but still beautiful, and being restored to its full glory by all of the newly-redeemed Annerians.

Janner grinned and reached up to ruffle his little brother's hair (much to the King's indignation), with a deeply-rooted contentment in his heart that said that, no matter what happened, everything would be alright.

Because the Maker had brought him to life, and he was here soaring on dragons with the people he loved most, returning to the kingdom where he would follow the calling of the Maker, help restore light and truth to the land, and do all that he could to aid and protect his little brother-King.

Janner Wingfeather, Throne Warden of Anneria, was finally home.

 **{the end of the saga}**

 **{also, the beginning of a new one}**

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 **Thanks for reading! Have a blessed week, lovely Wingfeathers! -Em**


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